


Washed Up

by OrionsProdigy95



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Time period, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked, Language Barrier, M/M, title may change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 18:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9454220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrionsProdigy95/pseuds/OrionsProdigy95
Summary: Viktor awakens on unfamiliar soil...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Translations at the bottom. Enjoy.

_ Schwooooosh…schwooooshhh…schwoosh… _

The endless rhythm of waves breaking filled Viktor’s ears, an omnipresent, all co nsuming soundtrack. For a long time, it was all that filled his head, too; he lacked the strength to reach for his other senses.

Eventually, though, a coherent thought formed in his head, and the shape of words and images felt strange in his mind after so long spent fuzzy and empty but for the whispering of the waves, the edges sharp and jarring him from his trance-like state.

_ Waves only break against the shore. _

It was difficult to process the consequences of this thought fully, though, his brain sluggish. It was like trying to chase the last apple from a washtub in the dark; the ocean kept sloshing around inside his skull, the necessary cognitive functions bobbing about just out of his reach.

Slowly, he became aware of other parts of his body, parts he’d somehow forgotten existed. The taste of  sand and the ocean in his mouth assailed him strongly just as he finally reached a conclusion about his first thought, pulling a weak gag from his throat.

_ I shouldn’t be on the shore. _

Suddenly aware of the need to breathe, Viktor attempted to draw in a reflexively deep breath and nearly choked on the sand and salt in his nose and mouth. With a monumental effort, he tipped onto his side, his cheek pressing to cool sand as he coughed and hacked the ocean from his lungs. The process left him trembling with exhaustion, and before he could make much more sense of his surroundings the waves had pulled him under their hypnotic spell once again.

`

The next time Viktor became aware, it was to the sound of a voice. It cut through the background of the ocean’s steady swishing and pulled him from his unintentional slumber. This time, he was faster to wake, the water draining from his brain with much more success. Within a few seconds, Viktor had ascertained that the syllables of the unknown speaker were entirely incomprehensible, forming strangely shaped sentences that all seemed to flow together in a way Viktor could not make the slightest sense of.

At the same time, his prior thoughts slid back into the forefront of his mind.

_ Waves only break on the shore. I should not be on the shore.  Where am I? _

The memories returned to him in a flash, images flashing behind his salt-crusted lids and words echoing in his sore ears. Flashes of lightning. Wind howling. Ropes snapping and sailcloth splitting. The report of a broken mast. White foam crashing over the decks from the maw of the rabid ocean. His fingers flexed, remembering the feel of a wooden wheel and ropes digging welts.

An alarmed sound slipped from his lips, and at the same time a timid poke to his shoulder drew him from his memories and prompted him to open his eyes for the first time.

The bright light of morning stabbed into his skull and he swiftly shuttered his eyes again, one arm lifting feebly in an attempt to block the light and possibly another poke. His glimpse had revealed a  silhouetted form above him, and it was instinctive to defend himself (though the very notion of self-defense in his current state was laughable) from the strange form.

The voice lifted briefly in what Viktor thought might have been a sound of surprise, and he heard the shuffling of sand beneath nervous feet. Attempting a dry, foul tasting swallow, Viktor forced his eyes open once more, blinking furiously to clear the sting of salt and light and settle his vision.

There was a man standing above him, seeming uncertain as he fiddled with the sleeves of the odd but simple shirt he wore, tied by a sash at his waist. His trousers were tied off at the knee as well, his feet tied into odd sandals that seemed to be made of straw, if Viktor was seeing them right. His clothing was of little consequence, though, as Viktor’s eyes had gotten caught on his face. The man’s features were exotic but beautiful in a strange way. It wasn’t the stand-out-ish beauty that Viktor himself possessed, the kind that drew every eye in the room the second he walked in. It was of a quieter sort, a contemplative one that caught your eye and invited you to take a second look. His eyes were dark and tinged with concern and apprehension in equal parts, his mouth set in a thin line of worry beneath a straight nose.

The man cleared his throat and spoke again suddenly, and the spell of his face was broken.

“ _ Anata wa ikite iru... Anatahadaredesu ka ? _ ”

Viktor blinked again. He was fairly certain he had detected a question, but he had no way of knowing what the man was asking beyond guessing. The man seemed to realize this from the blank look Viktor was giving him, and he frowned a little deeper in response, his brow furrowing. He crouched down suddenly, reminding Viktor acutely that he was still lying prone on the sand, and pointed to himself.

“Yuu-ri,” he said slowly and emphatically, and then he pointed to Viktor.

It took Viktor a moment to comprehend what was going on, and a frown tugged at his own lips as he did. He hardly thought names were important at the moment. Perhaps the man should be focusing on helping him, after all; it had to be fairly clear what had happened from the state of Viktor’s clothes…then aga in, n ames were as good a starting point  as any, he supposed, given the circumstances. He certainly wouldn’t have known what to do with himself in this scenario either. In fact, he still didn’t.

The man repeated his gesture in the meantime, speaking even more slowly this time before turning his hand toward Viktor once more.

Pushing himself up slowly so that he staring down slightly at the other man from his greater height, Viktor pointed to himself.

“Vik-“ His attempt at his name was cut off as his incredibly dry throat convulsed around the words, pulling him into a fit of coughing that seemed to briefly startle the other man and threatened to knock Viktor flat on the sand once more.

His discoverer, Yuuri, hastily shifted his weight to his knees, hands finding the odd wooden tube slung at his side and pulling a small plug from the top before offering it to Viktor.

“ _ Nome _ ,” he said insistently.

Catching on quickly, Viktor accepted the tube, feeling liquid sloshing around inside as he carefully brought it to his mouth for a cautious sip, the coughing having died out. Cool, fresh water filled his battered mouth and he had to restrain himself from swallowing it immediately, instead sloshing it around his mouth and then spitting to get rid of the last of the sand and the foul taste. The next mouthful went down, however, and the next one after that, soothing the irritated tissue of his throat and easing the throbbing of his head. After a few gulps, he passed it back and cleared his throat, ready to try again.

“Yuu-ri,” he said, gesturing to his rescuer briefly before turning his finger toward himself. “Vik-tor.” 

The man’s face split into a smile, apparently delighted that Viktor had caught onto his intentions.

“Vik-to-ru,” Yuuri repeated, as though the sounds felt strange in his mouth (and they probably did, judging by the odd shape of the language he’d been speaking before).  Abruptly, he straightened, offering his hand down to Viktor. “Vik-to-ru,  _ ki nasai _ .”

Head tilting slightly, Viktor reached for his hand, mildly embarrassed by the amount of help he required from the other man to get to his feet. Yuuri pulled his arm over his shoulders, the action made easier by the difference in their heights, chattering something at him in the strange language.

“ _ Watashi wa anata o watashinoie,  Viktoru ni tsuret e ikimasu _ . ”

“No, no. Vik-tor,” he felt compelled to say, the energy he normally would have spent on keeping his thoughts in his head currently occupied putting one foot in the other. “Vik-tor. Not Vik-tor-oo.”

Yuuri tilted his head.

“ Vik-to ,” he attempted, his voice contorting around the ending sound.  “Vik-to-er…?”

Viktor winced at the odd sound, lips curving in faint amusement, flapping a hand airily and nearly losing his balance.

“Ah, never mind. Viktoru it is.”

Yuuri smiled at him in a rather confused manner, the way a parent might encourage a babbling toddler. Viktor gave a little chuckle of exasperation, devoting the remainder of his energy to following the other man’s lead. Wherever he was going, at least one of the locals seemed friendly.

~

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I don't know where exactly I'm going with this, and updates will be sporadic if they happen at all. I'm mostly posting this to have some friends review it. That said, if anyone has any input please feel free to comment.  
> 2) I do not speak Japanese, so all translations via google translate. Feel free to correct away in the comments, and I'll get to changing it eventually.  
> 3) Translations, in order of appearance:  
> \- "You're alive...who are you?  
> \- "Drink."  
> \- "Viktor, come."  
> \- "I'll take you to my home, Viktor."  
> 4) Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading.


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